Synonymous
by catopiuh
Summary: Roy never has been the most articulate. -- MarthxRoy


Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own Marth or Roy, or Link, or any of the Smashers.

* * *

_'Love?'_

No. No, definitely not.

'_Crush?_'

Too girly.

'_Like_?'

No. It was stronger than that.

'_Then what?'_

With his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth, the redhead's sapphire eyes glared intently at the piece of paper laying on his desk. One hand was curled up in his hair in a fist, while the other twiddled a pen back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. It didn't take his glare to show that he was frustrated; it could be felt all the way down the hallway, leaking out from under his door.

"Pfff," came his muffled sigh, eyes not wavering from the list in front of himself. He'd been staring at it for a good hour now -- and thinking about it for even longer. It was quite simple to say that his patience, that had never been quite developed in the first place, was not taking well to his difficult task that he had set himself. It required far more patience than he had; and so, it was quite often that he felt about ready to give up, plopping his head down on the desk and groaning into the wood.

This required far too much work for something so seemingly simple.

Infact, there was a surprisingly lengthy process; First, Roy, sitting with his knees propped up against the desk and the book pulled in his lap, would scan through the list of words in the Thesaurus, going through the lengthy process of checking them one by one. Next he would open the dictionary across the way, flipping to his desired word. Then, if he further misunderstood the definition, he would have to consult the quick English-to-Japanese book, which he tried not to do (as his pride demanded of not needing it).

And after all that work, he would scratch his researched word off of the list with a disapproving sigh.

'_Lust_?'

He was attractive, quite surely; but no, that would not do.

'_Adoration?'_

Yet again, no; that applied more to a mindless fan, cheering on one of the Tournament fighters from the sidelines.

'_Worship?'_

Oh, Gods no -- quite literally! He was no god!

For the life of him, Roy simply could not figure out what exactly the Prince was to him. Simply nothing seemed to fit. He was not in love with Marth; yet he did not simply just 'like-like' him. He was not just friends with the bluenette; yet, was 'lover' too strong of a word for the two? He felt that their bids of 'good night' to each other seemed unfinished; that there was more to the sentence... but... _what_...?

It was the fiery redhead's stubborn pride that stopped him from taking the simple course, and just asking the Prince HIS opinion on that matter. After all, Marth was far more level headed than him, and always seemed far more calm and knowledgeable upon such subject - maybe he could explain it to him?

No. That would be TOO simple, of course. And simple was simply not Roy's style.

And so his long, frustrating task had begun. "Guaaagh," he groaned, letting his forehead smack to the desk again after scratching through the word 'devotion'. "There are too many words in this thing! Why won't any of them work?!"

"Any of what work?"

In a flash, Roy jerked back up, slamming the book in his lap shut. He looked up at the intruder, before scowling at the tall elf standing in the doorway, watching him bemusedly as he crunched into an apple.

"Gods dammit, Link... don't scare me like that!"

"What, the almighty Roy is capable of being scared?" the blonde teased in turn, stepping further into the room and approaching his desk. As he did so, Roy was quick in shutting his dictionaries as well. "Well, if you're not acting suspicious. What's up?"

"Nothing," he replied defensively, standing and piling the books one atop each other. Link raised an eyebrow at him, taking another large, loud bite from his fruit.

"That doesn't look like nothing. Are those _books_?"

"No, of course not. They're potatoes," he drawled as he crossed his arms and leaned defensively against the table, blocking them from view.

"What're you doin' with books? Since when do you read?"

"I read all the time. For, you know, uh, entertainmental purposes."

"Uhuh. Oh yea. Because 'entertainmental' is a word."

Biting his lower lip again, Roy couldn't think of anything more intelligent to reply as on-the-spot as this than, "Oh -- shut up!"

"What IS it that you're doing, anyway?" In a flash, before Roy could respond, he reached around the redhead, and snatched the list up off the table.

"H-hey -- LINK! Give me that back!"

But Link, using his vertical advantage, and Roy's vertical _challenge_, held the list up above his head, just out of the redhead's reach. Roy jumped a few times, reaching frantically for the paper, but Link simply read on, ignoring him. " 'Adoration', 'crush', 'fondness', 'cherishment'..." He blinked several times at it, before beginning to laugh, looking down at the shorter swordsman. "Roy?" The redhead's face was growing as bright as his hair. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"Yea," he replied tensely, snatching for the paper again, "Give it _back_!"

Complying to his wishes, Link lowered his hand, allowing the boy-General to snatch the list back, tucking it away. He grinned at him, taking another bite from his apple. "Interesting choice of words you're, uh..." His eyes flicked to the dictionaries on the table, "Looking up, there?"

At a loss as to of what to say, Roy turned away to hide his embarrassed flush. "I.. uhmm..."

"Sounds like Roy-boy has a crush," he teased, voice slightly sing-song. Defensively, Roy immediately returned, "I do not! It was crossed off!"

"Well, then it at the very least sounds like you have some _affection_ for someone..." Slyly he smiled. "Or did you cross that word off too?"

Shoving the list between the pages of one of the books, Roy sent him a huffy look, pulling the books off the table. Determined to get away from him and any further prodding, he walked off, exiting his dorm room. It was to no ado, as Link simply followed him, a merry expression on his face.

"Where're you going?"

"Library," Roy muttered.

"Ah, that where you got those books from?"

"Ahuh..."

"... those books that you're reading for a loooove perhaps?"

Roy's shoulders hunched stiffly up as he began stomping down the spiral staircase of the Smash Mansion. "Link -- shut up!"

"Who is it, huh? I never would've pegged you, Roy, as fancying anyone..."

"I _don't_ 'fancy' anyone!"

"Is it someone in the mansion?"

"No!"

"Someone back in Pherae?"

"No!"

"Someoooone --"

Roy gave a frustrated little sigh. There were advantages and disadvantages to the secret.

On one side; keeping the relationship between himself and Marth secret meant no worrying about what others were to think of them -- be it because of the fact that they were two men, or that they were of such different social statuses. They didn't have to worry about being punished or reprimanded by their very countries -- they didn't have to worry. And it was almost strangely nice, having such an intimate secret, held between just the two of them.

... and then on the other side -- facing questions like _this_ when any hints of the secret leaked out.

All the questions made him vaguely feel like he couldn't breath, and finally after some time of zoning out -- by now having even reached the Smasher's Library -- he finally said exasperatedly, "Link -- shut up, please."

The elf eyed him amusedly. "But I'm being serious... now I'm curious."

Figuring there was no use denying it after all this, the boy-General replied simply, "I'm only going to tell you if you stop pestering me about it." He paused. "But not right now, okay? Maybe some other time, but... not right now..."

The elf hummed slightly under his breath, examining him. Finally, he rested an elbow on his shoulder. "Okay, okay. I'll stop asking you WHO that thing was about. But, can ya at least tell me WHAT it was about?"

"... no," the pyromancer refused again, just as simply. Link's expression shifted to a near-pout.

"Why not? It's not like I'd run off telling anybody. You know that."

Roy did -- but it still was wounding to his pride for anyone, even the merry elf, to know just what his concerns were. It was far too strange, and -- _feminine_ feeling. And may the Gods forbid such a thought being reflected upon his masculine, tough image. "Hmmm... no."

"Aw, Roy--!"

But Roy stepped inside the library, bumping the door open with his hip. Narrowing his eyes at him, he added as Link moved to follow him, "No eating in the library." He nodded his head towards the apple.

Link examined it for a moment -- he was far from done with it -- before looking dejectedly at Roy, relenting, "Fine. Fine, I'll stop... for now."

"Ominous... should I be afraid?"

"Big word, Roy -- did you look that up in your Love-Dictionary too?"

With a fractional frown again, and refusing to let the heat rise in his cheeks -- as if he could control it -- he replied shortly to the elf, rolling his eyes, "See you later Link."

"Later. Good luck Lover-Boy."

Feeling, if possible, even more discouraged from this interaction, Roy trudged very slowly past the shelves of shelves of books, towards the back of the library. He had half the mind to just put the books back now, and half to try to continue reading.

After a moment, he decided to chose the latter; it was very unlikely for anyone else who were to come looking for him to check HERE in the Library of all places; hence, no interruptions. Dropping the three books loosely onto a desk in the back of the silent room, he gave an equally quiet sigh, dropping heavily into a chair in suite. He leaned lazily back in it for a moment, stretching his arms above his head in preparation. Dropping the list back onto the table, he yawned.

"Damn... here we go again."

Dropping the chair back on to all four legs again, he leaned over the list, flipping over the book again.

Link faded entirely, and quickly from his mind; it was now cast purely upon the bluenette Prince.

And what words were missing?

He wasn't in love, too strong; nor lust, too animalistic; nor liking, too simple; nor yearning, he had him, and had no need to yearn; nor allegiance, too formal; nor...

The list went on. One by one, his fingers skimmed along the list of words beneath 'love', looking up their definitions one by one in the other dictionary. It was a regular Goldilocks and the Three Bears -- everything was either too much or not enough.

He had yet to find his 'just right'.

Licking his lips determinedly, he continued scratching words and definitions onto and off of his list in a messy scrawl, trying to solve his mystery.

He would surely lose sleep over it until he got it.

-x-

He had lost sleep, but it seemed that the sun bought with it amnesia. The next day, and all to follow, he would get distracted with something or the other and completely forget about his quest for words. But always, as the sky began to cloud over with a dark blue, the thoughts would snap back to him, sharper than ever, nagging at his brain all into the night.

As night often found them, the thoughts came to his mind once again they were both standing in a doorway, breathing shallowly, the corners of both their lips tinged pink. It was doorway to Roy's room, to be specific; And it was, of course, Marth who was his exiting companion. And just that; exiting. It would be far too risky for him to stay and have another Smasher barge in upon them later -- which was far from unlikely.

And so, when night had fallen too darkly upon the windows, they both reluctantly pulled apart, and it hit Roy --

_'Here comes the 'good night'_ _again._'

And what was he to say?

He couldn't stand the thought of having to crawl back into his bed, and have to hide his face in his pillow, cursing his own lack of confidence. It seemed Marth to be the only one who could make him fret so very much. But the Prince succeeded, every night, whether he knew it or not; and it was driving the boy-General crazy.

If he were stuck cursing his ungraceful tongue again, he would scream.

Or, so went his thoughts as he stood awkwardly before Marth, eyebrow twitching slightly. His eyes were focused intently on the ground, and he had the feeling that Marth's own weren't exactly focused on him, either. Here it was; the awkward pauses that always filled the time just between the intimacy and reserved departures. Roy hated it. It made him want to squirm uncomfortably.

Marth exhaled quietly in front of him, and Roy looked up again. As soon as he did, the blue eyes flicked back to his in turn.

"Mmm..." He seemed just as awkward, pausing. "... night came far more quickly than I anticipated."

Roy couldn't agree more, and wanted to be just as slow in his response; but that wasn't him. Rather, he cracked a trademark warm grin, suggesting with a laugh, "Time flies when you're having fun?"

The awkwardness was broken momentarily; Marth smiled faintly at him, and his hand lifted to the doorframe, resting against it. "I suppose that's the phrase, isn't it?"

"Mhm..."

Another pause. "Well... I suppose I shall see you tomorrow."

The feeling bubbled up in the pit of his stomach as he watched him turn to go. "... yea... see you tomorrow."

"Good-night, Roy."

"Good-night, Marth..."

There it was again; hanging unspoken in the air, and as Roy watched him turn to leave, he couldn't hold it in anymore and blurted out, "Marth!"

It was **now** or **never.**

The older swordsman's footsteps halted, and he looked over his shoulder at him. "Yes?"

Roy's fingers slowly curled into a fist by his side, and he bit the inside of his cheek nervously. "Uhmm..."

"Is something wrong?"

"... Marth, I'm -- I'm in ardor with you!"

Marth completely stopped, simply blinking at him as his mind processed the words. Slowly, with a look of puzzlement, he asked, "... excuse me?"

Roy's fingers twitched, and just as uncertainly he continued, feeling rather foolish. "I'm in ardor with you."

"... ardor?" he questioned softly, but he had turned completely to him now.

"Ardor..." Roy repeated, eyeing him. As if to elaborate, he stuck his hand into his pocket and slowly pulled out a crumpled piece of paper -- remains of 'The List' he had shoved in his pocket. Unfolding it, his eyes scanned down it, before coming to rest on the last item on it. He read off slowly, "Ardor -- it... it means 'a fiery intensity of feeling', and 'passion'..." Embarrassment increasing by each second that Marth didn't reply, he crumpled the paper again in his hand. "Well, not that I... well, I, y'know, just thought I'd say--"

Marth cut him off, having stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. Roy looked carefully up at him. "Roy?"

"Yea...?"

"It's okay," he said with a small smile, leaning down until his forehead bumped against the shorter boy's. "I ardor you too."

Roy still thought that the both of them sounded foolish, but when Marth's lips meshed gently with his, he didn't really care; and when his arms slipped around his shoulders, decided that he had gotten his point across just fine.

Roy certainly wasn't the most poetic, or the best with words at all -- even WITH the help of a dictionary. But when it comes to blossoming love, it doesn't necessarily take tact or plans to make your feelings clear.

Perhaps it's as simple as adding on a few more words to an unfinished 'good night'.


End file.
